


Fuck November

by NopeNahNeverNon



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry behaving borderline creepy, Harry might be a stalker, Louis in pain and feeling alone, M/M, suggestion of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NopeNahNeverNon/pseuds/NopeNahNeverNon
Summary: Louis is depressed and coping by running miles and miles past midnight every night. Harry accidentally follows Louis one night and then finds that he can’t stop.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to come.

Louis ran nearly every night. He had to run if he wanted to sleep. One day a week, Louis could use a casual game of footie and/or a night out with the lads to lull him to sleep. The other six nights found him at the local park running the trails with little more than the moon for company.  
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Harry knew he had to stop. It had gone well past cute and was now firmly in creepy. He was going to stop. Of course he was going to stop. It’s just, the day had been stressful and Harry knew that the only thing that would grant him any peace was seeing The Man. “Shit”, Harry thought, “I am a proper stalker”. 

It had all started on a similarly dreadful day. Harry had a shit day and he was panicking at the closeness of his own skin when he found himself alone and restless inside his home. It began simply enough, Harry pacing the room. Then the length of his home. Next, he had stuffed his feet in some trainers, grabbed his keys, and was running out his door toward the local park. Harry needed to run. He needed a full on proper run. He needed a run where he would find himself breathless and exhausted, in the thick of an unfamiliar area. He needed a run that would leave him boneless enough that he wouldn’t be able to think about the days earlier events. 

Harry had only been in a full tilt run for a minute or two when he saw him. The Man. If you asked Harry now what it was about The Man that rose him from his thoughts, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. On any other day it would have been the music coming from The Man’s phone. Harry hated when people didn’t use headphones. It was just the sort of inconsiderate behavior that grated on his nerves but it wasn’t the thing that drew his attention. Maybe Harry would make some excuse about how it was odd to see anyone else out at that time, running as if the devil were on their heels. No, that wasn’t it either. 

The Man was noticeable in the way that whirlpools are noticeable. The Man was noticeable in the way the thick clouds of smoke from a house fire are noticeable. The Man was noticeable in the way that the car coming toward you at full speed is noticeable. Too late.  
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Louis hated November. Fuck November. Fuck mustaches. Fuck Bonfire day. Fuck Remembrance day. Fuck November. If ever there was a month to blast out of existence, it was fucking November. Fuck. November.  
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Harry had followed The Man for the entire length of the park. The first song that he had picked up on coming from The Man’s phone had been one Harry hadn’t heard but felt perfect for the night. Harry found his pace to the beat, a fast and unrelenting rhythm that his body wanted. Of course, Harry stayed far enough away from The Man for The Man to notice. Then again, Harry thought he could have been running at The Man’s side and The Man wouldn’t have known. Harry had a secondary thought that he would stop keeping pace with The Man as soon as the song ended. Except, the next song that started was one that so flawlessly fit his mood that he couldn’t imagine not keeping pace with The Man. 

And so it went. Harry found himself behind The Man song after song. Harry only stopped when he realized that he had come full circle and he was near his home. He somewhat regretfully left the park and went into his home but with his thoughts scrapped clean and with stillness in his body. Harry was able to fall asleep easily after a short shower with his dreams fuzzy and non-descript. Peaceful.  
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Louis was so fucking tired. He was tired of having to run himself breathless. He was tired of needing time away from any other person in order to move. To think. To fucking breath. He was so fucking tired of feeling alone. Deserted. Abandoned. The contradictory nature of his needs left his head swimming. ‘Fuck’ Louis thought. He was so fucking tired.  
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Harry told himself that he was curious more than anything the night after he saw The Man. Would The Man be at the park again tonight? Would The Man be wearing headphones tonight? If not, why? Would The Man be there at the same time? Run the same path? Would he have someone there with him tonight? Would he be wearing a different Yorkshire tea jersey?  
It was curiosity, nothing else, that found Harry idly leaning against a tree in the park, feeling foolish and self-conscious. ‘What am I doing here?’ ‘Why am I here?’ ‘I am an absolute idiot.’ Harry had just resigned himself to go back home when he heard the faintest sound of music. He held his breath. Should he hide? Should he start running now and be out in front? Would that be weird? Would The Man spook and change paths? Harry was still calculating the best approach when he heard The Man run past the tree Harry was squatting behind. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’ Harry thought and then counted to seven and started running behind The Man. 

And so it went. Night after night. Week after week. Month after month. Harry would wait behind a tree and when The Man would pass, he would count to seven and then follow. Yes, Harry felt creepy but he was also sleeping better than he had in years. The Man never seemed to notice that Harry was following him every night. Well, every night except for Saturdays when The Man never came. It wasn’t Harry’s proudest moment when he realized he had just spent three lonely Saturday nights alone at the park waiting around so that he might be able to follow behind some bloke he still had never spoken to. The Man, however, seemed oblivious to everything. There was this one time when Harry spotted a couple up ahead and off to the side fully unclothed and in the throes of passion. Harry was sure The Man’s pace would slow, or that his head would turn, or at the very least he would look back to check if he had actually seen two people having sex in the park. The Man ran on without any indication that anything was amiss. 

After a few weeks, Harry found himself thinking he could identify The Man’s moods from the music he would play. Harry had decided that The Man would listen to pop when he was in a good mood, indie when he was calm, and punk when he was angry. Harry would always try to remember as many of the songs as he could when he got home and add them to a playlist. His appreciation of music exploded due to The Man introducing Harry to so many artists he had never heard of before the runs. Harry once stuttered for nearly a full minute when his friends asked where he found the band Gold Bloom.  
‘I am creepy and a stalker and I must stop’ Harry thought.  
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Louis had been running hard on this night. He had intentionally picked a playlist that made his skin crackle with too much energy. It was his playlist he listened to when he wanted to hurt. Needed to hurt. Louis wanted to run so hard and so fast and for so long that when he got home he would be able to sleep through the rest of the fucking month. He had been doing a good job of it, too. Louis was halfway through his second lap of the park when ‘I lost a friend’ by Finneas came on. His pace slowed for half a dozen footfalls and his head had dipped slightly but he straightened up and regained his speed quickly. 

Louis wasn’t going to scream. He wasn’t going to fucking rage at the sky. He wasn’t going to kick, or pull at his hair, or fall to the ground in despair. Fuck that. He would listen to this fucking song and feel like his world was unraveling again and he would fucking take it. And so Louis kept running even though part of his thoughts were back in that awful night when he first saw the text message. He kept his feet moving as he thought about how he had sat there stunned for a moment and he could almost feel that hot buzzing panic he had felt all those months ago. The shock had passed and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and anger had been all that was left. ‘What a fucking fool I was’ Louis thought. His pace quickened. He was running faster than he usually did but he felt so fucking good feeling his chest burn and his legs going numb with overuse. Louis thought he could run like this for hours. ‘Fuck me’ he thought at how badly he wanted to run until he had ruined himself.

Then ‘Hate Me’ by Blue October came on. 

The effect was instant. Louis’ legs stopped and his arms went slack. Tears were suddenly threatening to spill over and he felt like someone was pulling his heart out. Louis stood like that for a few seconds. Stunned. Struck. Hurt. 

Just like that night so long ago, the rage came and Louis screamed. It wasn’t a scream you hear in movies regardless of how talented the actor is. It was the type of scream you hear when someone loses part of themselves. Endless and soul sucking. Louis pulled his arm back and threw his phone with all of his strength. The phone landed a few meters away but he could still faintly hear the music. He stood there panting while he listened for a few more seconds. Then he went to his knees with his chest bent toward the ground, put his face in his hands, and sobbed. 

Fuck November.  
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Harry watched The Man fall apart from the shadows. He wanted so badly to approach The Man but knew that it wouldn’t bring any comfort. More likely it would disturb The Man even more. Harry stood there and wiped away a few tears silently falling. He thought about what sort of demons The Man was fighting and how long this fight had been going on. It looked like The Man’s demons were winning tonight. 

Harry didn’t know how long he watched The Man lay shaking on the ground but it felt like an eternity. He hadn’t been able to hear the music from the phone since The Man threw it so all he could hear were The Man's ragged breathing. Harry startled when The Man slowly got to all fours and started crawled in the direction he had thrown his phone. The phone must have still been on because Harry could see him work his phone for a moment and then watched The Man slide it into his pocket. The Man took a slow, deep breath and then stood.  
Harry followed far behind The Man as he walked through the park. When they got to the edge, Harry hesitated, worried he would be crossing even more forbidden lines if he followed The Man further. In the end, Harry couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to ensure The Man would get home safely so Harry followed as The Man crossed streets and cut through gardens.

The Man had reached a quiet street and was opening a gate when Harry spotted him. Harry watched The Man close the gate, heard the sound of a heavy door opening and closing, and then saw light spill out from a high window. 

Harry stayed outside The Man’s house for a while but didn’t fully know why; he just wanted to be near him in case The Man would need something. His thoughts were sluggish and half formed but he found himself wondering what circumstances lead The Man to be able to afford such a grand house. Was work part of the reason that The Man raced his thoughts every night? Or was The Man an athlete and this was some sort of masochistic additional training. The Man was certainly fit enough to be a professional athlete. No. Harry remembered that scream. Whatever caused that sound, whatever was making The Man run alone at the park every day at a time when no rational person would be out exercising, it wasn’t work. 

Eventually, the sky started to brighten. Harry knew he needed to leave. People in the other houses would start waking soon. ‘Shit’ Harry thought. He’d be due at work soon himself. Harry stood there for a moment longer, eyes trained on the upper window, before silently wishing The Man peace from his troubles. Harry knew he couldn’t run with The Man anymore. The Man was running to get away from himself and Harry had no right to stay witness. With a steadying breath and one last long look at The Man’s window, Harry turned and started to walk home.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is in the thick of his depression and there is loads of backstory. Harry is missing running "with" The Man. 
> 
> This chapter covers: Denial of sexual orientation, unrequited love, death of a minor (in the story) character, and the 2016 US election.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters to follow

Louis woke up from a few hours of fitful sleep and immediately wished he hadn’t. He should have taken a sick day at work. He should have booked a holiday at some beach side resort. He should have bought out an entire liquor store and been blissfully fucking inebriated all day. That would never have worked. Louis was a feisty drunk at the best of times and he’d likely just roam the streets howling and instigating fights now that he was filled with gut shattering sadness. 

It had been two full years of knowing his best friend, Tommie, was never going to surprise him at the most inconvenient time or send him a string of text messages in the middle of the night that simply read ‘Hey face’ over and over. It had also been two full years of knowing that Tommie hadn’t felt the need to fucking say goodbye. Was that true? Louis didn’t know. Sometimes Louis thought she had barely thought of him that night, if at fucking all. Other times, Louis knew it; he fucking felt it in his bones that Tommie had picked that night because of him. 

Louis went through the morning on autopilot. There was a feeling he had that he could only describe as being lost in a forest with a dense fog. You know that at some point you’re going to walk straight into a tree, or step on a jagged rock, or go right off of a cliff but you have to keep walking blind through the forest if you’re ever going to get out.

Louis knew that he was absolutely going to fracture his fucking skull on a tree today. 

Louis spent the drive to work wishing he was in a fucking coma at hospital. He would look at everyone else going about their day and try to remember the last time he felt that normal. Two years ago? No. Four years ago? No. Five years ago? Ha! No. Louis turned up the stereo and focused on the music.   
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Harry was utterly miserable. He should have called out from work. He certainly wasn’t going to be of any use to anyone today. Maybe he should have a quick lie down and see if he’d be able to salvage the second half of the day. ‘Right’ he thought. 

Harry was worried about The Man. He couldn’t stop hearing the way The Man had screamed. It had been haunting him. All Harry wanted to do was go to The Man’s house or go back to the park and approach him but he knew that he couldn’t. What would he say? “Yes, hello. Hi. I’ve been running behind you for months now and I’m inexplicitly drawn to you. I couldn’t help but notice you’re a bit low and I was wondering if you’d like a little cuddle?” 

‘Brilliant, Harry’ he thought. 

Harry couldn’t go back. He knew that. He had already behaved so poorly and he was ashamed of how he had let himself watch The Man in an obviously private moment. Only, Harry really felt as if he had gotten to know The Man through their runs in the park. The Man’s music had been the first thing that attracted Harry to him. The Man played music that Harry believed fit The Man’s mood perfectly, so it always felt like The Man was letting Harry know how his day had been. ‘No, he wasn’t you idiot,’ Harry thought, ‘you just wanted him to be.’ Harry sighed and then went to get another coffee.   
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Louis loved his job. It was really the only job he felt suited him. Well, one of the only jobs he felt suited for. Louis set out for London when he graduated at 21 with nothing more than well wishes from his family and a will so strong even strangers could feel it. He went to every music studio he could find and hand delivered his resume with a firm handshake and a not so subtle suggestion that he’d be willing to scrub toilets if it would get him in the door. He had eleven job offers by the end of the second day, ranging from custodial work to being a runner. Louis accepted a runner position with Rak Studios over Abbey Road Studios simply because Rak had employed at least one woman. He remembered his mum had given him so much shit when he told her. “How do you turn down Abbey Road,” she had screamed. Louis sent her the link to their engineer and recorder webpage and text “How would I be able to work around all that heterosexual male testosterone?”

Louis was bumped up from Runner to Assistant Engineer in an unheard of four months. He had been hovering around when Ed Sheeran was in the studio and boldly made an unasked for and unorthodox recommendation. It should have gotten Louis sacked. It should have black listed him from all the other studios within the country. In the UK. Instead, Ed had liked Louis’ take and asked for him to be involved with the rest of the unfinished songs. Since then, Louis has been one of the most sought after engineers and nearly everything he has worked on has sold millions upon millions of copies and has earned quite a few awards. 

Louis would happily throw it all fucking away if he thought it could bring back his mum or his sister. ‘Or even a fucking goodbye from Tommie’ he thought.   
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Harry sat at home much later that night feeling half dead. His body needed sleep desperately but his mind wouldn’t budge. Harry wanted to see The Man. Is he alright? Is he still upset? What music will he listen to tonight? Was anyone at The Man’s house who could comfort him? 

Harry was restless. He wanted to run. No, he wanted to run with The Man. ‘No, you idiot. Not with. Behind and in secret’ he thought. He didn’t know when it had switched from ‘I’m just running behind some man, every night, and without his knowledge. Everything is fine,’ to ‘That jersey looks quite good on him,’ to ‘If he looks this good in joggers I bet he absolutely destroys in a suit,’ and then finally ‘I think I will actually die if I ever see The Man naked. First cry and then I’ll die. First worship him, then cry, then I’ll die.’ 

Gemma, his sister, had been appalled when Harry first told her about The Man. “Harry,” Gemma had said, “What if it was me that some man was following around every day?” The thought sickened Harry and he didn’t bring it up again. It had been a little over a month when they were both a little drunk after celebrating their mums birthday when Gemma brought it up. Harry had tried to explain why he kept running behind The Man. How every night he was sure it would be the night he would approach The Man and ask him to grab a pint. How every night when The Man was nearing Harrys tree, his throat would close and his tongue turned to lead. Harry told Gemma that he wanted, he so badly wanted, to speak to The Man because he could feel it, somewhere in his chest he could feel that The Man and him would be ‘IT’. If only Harry could just speak to him.

Gemma had gotten him a large glass of water and told him to take baby steps. “Start, I don’t know, being visible. Run in front a few times. Or pass him! Yes, pass him! That’s sure to get his attention.”   
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Louis had met Tommie in school. She had transferred from America and sat around that first day looking shell shocked. Some kids were taking the piss and Tommie just sat there all big eyed and quiet. Louis watched and calculated the risk of stepping in. He wasn’t the most popular kid in school but he wasn’t fucked with either because he could cut anyone down with just a few words, something his History teacher was all too aware of. Louis took a breath to steady himself and then went up to her. He had said something like “hey, follow me” or “come on” and offered her his hand. She sat there looking at him, first at his face and then to his hand with big blank eyes. Louis was beginning to color. He would never hear the end of it if she didn’t come with him. He was just about to turn and walk straight to Scotland when she stood up. She didn’t take his hand but she stood up. They stood there for a second just looking at each other before Louis nodded his head in the direction of the door and they both started walking. 

They were best friends the way only children can be – immediately and completely. Tommie was an unwilling participant in her fathers new marriage to a British woman. She had moved from Playa Del Rey in California to Manchester and to suggest Tommie was underwhelmed was a fucking understatement. She positively hated everything about England, except of course Louis. 

It had taken six years for the inevitable to happen. Tommie had just ended a relationship with an utter knob and was half devastated - half thrilled and Louis had been in that rare time period between partners. Louis hadn’t told Tommie that he had broken up with his last girlfriend because every time they started to kiss he would picture the hot bartender from the pub. Louis was fucking confused and didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t want to know what it meant. He wanted to continue going through school known as the loud one or even the flamboyant one. He did not want to be known as the gay one. Or the queer one. Or the bi one. Fuck. Louis didn’t even know what he would be known as other than not straight and he wasn’t ready for that to be him. So when Tommie stayed pressed to Louis even after everyone else got off the sofa and left the room, Louis kissed her.   
It wasn’t bad. The kissing was quite nice actually. All of Louis’ fears were being eased. He was straight. Obviously, he was fucking straight. The bartender that was so often in his head was incredibly feminine, really. That was it. The bartender just looked like the type of woman Louis preferred, tall, dark, and slender. The fact that the bartender just so happened to have a penis meant nothing. Really, there was nothing so different about a vagina from a penis when you thought about it. Louis had been brought back to the current situation when Tommie’s hands started to roam and clothes were being taken off. Tommie pulled away, panted slightly, and asked if he had a condom. He did. 

It was fucking awful. Their bodies weren’t moving in sync no matter what position they tried and it was so bloody quiet. Tommie had this look in her eye that Louis hadn’t seen from her before and she was smiling up at him. Louis was used to girls keeping their eyes closed and biting their lips or sucking marks onto him. Sex had definitely never been quiet before. Fuck. Tommie was just smiling at him. Louis realized then that she had properly liked him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This wasn’t some post break up fool around for her, it was the beginning of something she fucking wanted. Louis wanted to cry. Instead he faked an orgasm, kissed Tommie on her forehead, got dressed, and left.   
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Harry did try to take baby steps, honestly, he did. The whole time Harry was making his way to the park after his mum’s birthday dinner he had been telling himself that he would be out in front of The Man this time. He wouldn’t be able to see The Man, sure, but maybe Gemma was right and this would finally get The Man’s attention. Harry waited by his tree and prepared to start running the second he heard music. He had hoped it would be some pop song to increase the odds of The Man being in a good mood. He was thinking of what artists and bands The Man would be listening to tonight, making predictions and smiling to himself. Harry was so deep into his forecast that it took him a few seconds to realize The Man had ran past him. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit’ Harry thought then he counted to seven and started running. 

The following night, Harry told himself that he would pass The Man as his next baby step. He had been playing over scenarios all day in his head. He would pass The Man and The Man would call out to him. He would pass The Man and it would start a playful competition between them. He would pass The Man and wink at him as he did, starting a flirty exchange that would immediately lead to marriage. When The Man passed Harry and his tree later, Harry counted to seven and started to run with butterflies exploding from his stomach. Harry quickly realized that tonight wasn’t the night that The Man would notice him. NOFX’s ‘Pump up the valuum’ was screaming out of his phone and The Man was nearly sprinting. ‘So it’s going to be one of those nights’ Harry thought. The playlist from that night were all punk bands; the Deviates, Millencolin, Rancid, Pennywise, and a few others that Harry hadn’t heard before. By the time they had come full circle Harry was exhausted and walked home feeling defeated.   
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Louis and Tommie’s friendship never recovered. Tommie was upset that Louis all but ran out afterwards and that he had sex with her when he clearly wasn’t interested. Louis apologized. He apologized in long, dissected conversations. He apologized in short bursts in an attempt to stop a new fight. He apologized on the phone and in text. Louis apologized so much that he felt like their friendship had transformed into nothing but Tommie being sad and Louis finding new ways to apologize for it. He kept apologizing though because he believed that at some point they were sure to go back to being Louis and Tommie – best fucking friends forever. 

They didn’t. 

From that night with the terrible sex onward, whenever Tommie started drinking she would start looking at Louis with those big doe eyes. Whenever Louis started to flirt with some girl, Tommie would sulk and make big dramatic exits. A year after that dreadful night Tommie gave Louis an ultimatum: be with her or never speak with her again. He couldn’t believe her. His mind went dark as he sat there and tried to make sense of what she had been saying. Did she really only want him around if he was fucking her? Was his friendship, his fucking seven years of fucking friendship, not worth it to her? Was Tommie really willing to give him up because he didn’t want to fuck her? Louis looked at her and saw that she thought his silence was him choosing a relationship. Fuck. He didn’t know if he hated her or himself more then. “I’m sorry, Toms. I love you. I fucking love you. So fucking much. But I’m not in love with you and I don’t think I ever will be.” She didn’t even say anything to him. She just leaned in, kissed his forehead, and then walked away.   
It was half a year before they spoke again. It had been Christmas time and Louis went back home from London to be with his family. There were parties and meet ups and impromptu gatherings at the pub. Louis had just finished his second pint with some boys from the neighborhood when Tommie walked in. Just like that, they were talking like nothing had ever come between them. Tommie couldn’t believe that Louis had actually spoken to Ed Sheeran and Louis was thankful for the easy conversation that didn’t involve him apologizing anymore. His heart was warmed by the thought he might be getting his best friend back by some sort of Christmas miracle. He had missed her fiercely and was honestly a lonely mess without her. The absence of their inside jokes and traditions, all their shared experiences and long, rambling conversations had left him feeling fucking empty. Fucking hell, he wanted Tommie back. 

The conversation had steered toward romance and Tommie revealed that she was dating another utter knob. They had laughed endlessly at a story about said knob falling in dog shit. Louis felt like things were finally normal again. Leaning toward drunk and tipsy off of finally having his best friend back, he told Tommie about the weird, half relationship he was in with a man back in London. He had been waiting for the ‘aha!’ moment on her face. The look that would say ‘oooohhhhh! That’s why you didn’t want to be with me.’ Instead, Tommie looked as if he had punched her. 

They had kept in touch after, even meeting up once more before Louis went back to London. They made plans for Tommie to come down for a weekend and Louis was so excited to show off by taking her to all the cool places he had found. And so it went. Tommie came, they had a great time, and she left. Everything had gone nearly perfectly except Tommie looked sick whenever Louis mentioned the man he was half dating. There was also that night before she left and she had gotten a little too pissed and started looking at Louis with those big doe eyes again. He had put her on the couch with loads of water and in the morning her eyes were nothing but bright. 

That’s how it went for another year - everything being mostly fine. Louis learned the land mines to avoid and the landscape of their friendship was mostly pleasant. It did sometimes bother him that he couldn’t fully be himself with Tommie but he was happier that he had her, his best fucking friend. It wasn’t perfect but it was Tommie and that was everything. 

Louis had forgotten the landmines when his boyfriend of nearly a year unexpectedly broke up with him. He had a driver pick Tommie up and bring her to London and he had sobbed on her shoulder for hours. Louis had been so distraught that it took him longer than it should have to realize that Tommie had started kissing his neck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Louis moved away and shook his head. He didn’t process everything Tommie said then but he understood the meaning. Louis was torturing her. They were meant to be together. He needed to get his head out of his ass and open his fucking eyes. 

Louis’ heart felt sick. He felt tired and used and so fucking sad. He started crying again and whispered “Toms. Please. Please just be my friend.” 

Louis would never forget the look on her face. It was some rare combination of sadness, hurt, and disgust. Tommie didn’t say anything. She didn’t kiss his forehead. She just got up and walked out in the middle of the fucking night with nowhere else to go and no way to get back home. Tommie was making her point as loudly as she could. 

She was fucking done with him.  
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After his two failed attempts, Harry went back to following behind The Man but with the intention that he would get closer to approaching him. There were a few nights when Harry counted five seconds before he started running. One night he even conspicuously coughed as The Man passed his tree. 

The nightly routine of possibly stalking some handsome man had helped Harry in many ways. Yes, he was aware of how sick that sounded. But he had been more productive, he had become far more fit than he had ever been before, and he had been happier. 

And now it was over. 

Harry knew that he could keep running. He could go to the park earlier and bring his own bloody phone with his own bloody music. Harry also knew that eliminating a long run that only ever happened after midnight would do wonders for the amount of sleep he would get. Harry could do all of it except see The Man and that made everything else seem pointless.  
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Louis would want to call Tommie every time he worked with someone he knew she liked. He would want to call her every time his sisters did something funny or brilliant. He would want to call her every time he watched something interesting. He would want to call her every time he went to the pub, every time he made tea, every time he saw a little girl with choppy fringe and big eyes. He would want to call her every time he fucking woke up. 

Louis had made it to September of 2016 before calling her. 

His mum’s latest fight with cancer was getting worse and the doctors weren’t optimistic anymore. Louis’ mum had just called him and told him she wanted to see more of him while she could. He had held it together the entire phone call but broke as soon as she had hung up. Louis couldn’t tell you what happened then but the next day when he woke up his flat looked wrecked and his face was so swollen he could barely see. Louis called Tommie on the drive up to Manchester. He had had to pull over but he told her everything with his throat closing, his hands pressed tight into his eyes, and his breathing labored. Louis asked if he could see her. “Fuck Louis, I can’t. I’m so sorry but I can’t. I’m in California. I was accepted into a nursing program over here and the schedule is insane. I can’t leave right now but I’ll be there for the holidays, yeah?” 

It had given him hope. It had been something to look forward to. He would see Tommie in less than four months and she would help make things better. She always did. Until then, being able to text and call Tommie was enough. It felt good to have her back in his life. He felt stronger. Louis could handle whatever happened with his mum because Tommie would be with him. 

Ha fucking ha. 

It was November 9, 2016. Louis was up early watching America lose its fucking mind. Did they really hate women that much? They would rather have a man who was accused of rape and had zero fucking experience run the country than a woman? Who were these people voting for third parties? Louis text Tommie something about how America was doomed if the orange man won. Tommie responded with something along the lines of ‘Don’t blame me, I voted for Stein.’ Louis had been shocked. 

L: What the fuck, Toms ?!? Trump is winning partially because people are voting for third parties !!! How could you throw your vote away like that ???  
T: Dude. Just stop. Just fucking stop. You don’t really fucking care about this and you sure as hell don’t fucking care about me. Just let me go. 

Louis stared at his phone in disbelief. Where had that come from? How had he pissed Tommie off that badly? Why had she gotten that angry? Why was her first response when she was angry to tell him to let her go? His body felt numb but his heart was on fire. Why doesn’t she understand that I’m fucking gay?! Why can’t she just be my fucking friend? Why do I only fucking matter to her if I’m willing to fuck her? Why does she only fucking care about my dick? Fuck that. Enough. I’m fucking done trying to prove my friendship to her. Fuck it. I’m done. She needs to get the fuck over it. I’m not fucking chasing her anymore. She can go and be pouty and if she ever grows the fuck up, she can give me a fucking call and apologize for being a shitty fucking friend. 

Louis deleted their texts. He opened his email and deleted their emails. He went on all the different social media apps and un-followed her. He opened his contacts and he deleted Tommie.   
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Louis’ mum died a month after Tommie told him to let her go. Louis’ grief was so thick he couldn’t tell where he was or what he was doing. How was he meant to move? How was he meant to breathe? Other than his siblings, the only person he could think of being around was Tommie. He wouldn’t try to contact her though. His mum dying had been too big and Tommie had been too shitty. Tommie needed to contact him. Louis fucking needed her to contact him. Louis fucking needed her. 

Tommie didn’t contact him. 

Louis’ birthday came and went and there was no Tommie. Christmas came and she hadn’t shown up at his door. There had been no missed calls or text messages. There had been no notes shoved into the crack of his childhood windowsill. There had been no Tommie. 

Louis hadn’t thought it was possible for him to hurt any more. How could grief keep getting deeper and heavier? 

Louis, Lottie, and Felicite were off their faces Christmas night. They were chasing happy memories of their mum and how she would have been singing George Michael while she cleaned up from the days festivities. Louis woke up still drunk and he decided he had given Tommie too much of his thoughts and he hardened his heart. Fuck Tommie. Fuck her and her stupid fucking feelings. How fucking dare she. Louis didn’t care how much Tommie thought she was in love with him. His fucking mum died and she didn’t fucking show up. There was no moving past this.

Louis went back to London on New Years Day. He looked around his flat and only saw Tommie. There was the second hand sofa she slept on when she would visit. There was the mug she chipped when she was re-enacting a funny scenario from work. There were the anti-diarrhea pills he bought for her after she ate questionable street meat and had locked herself in the bathroom for sixteen hours straight. There was the gaudy velvet painting of Grease she had bought him for his birthday when they were eighteen. Tommie. Tommie. Tommie. Louis dropped his keys on the floor and walked out of his flat. 

Louis had checked into a hotel and contacted a realtor. He had been saving money since he started at Rak so that he could buy his mum and sisters a grand house in London. When his mum had first been diagnosed he threw his savings at the doctors. He would give the doctors everything of anything he ever made. His mum stopped him when she realized there was nothing more to do. Louis didn’t have anywhere near the same amount of savings that he once had but it would be enough for a down payment. 

Within two weeks an offer had been accepted on a posh house in an even more posh neighborhood. It had four bedrooms, a theater, a pool, and was a short walk to Hampstead Heath park. Louis had been told by the realtor that the park would be nice for when his siblings would visit. All Louis had left to do was go and pack up his belongings from his flat. He couldn’t do it. 

Lottie had gone back for him and told the movers what they could pack and what they needed to throw away. She had tried to convince Louis that he should keep the rest of the stuff in storage for when Tommie would come around. It hadn’t worked. In the end, Louis stood alone in the foyer of his new home with a bookcase his mum had bought him a little over a year ago and six boxes filled with shit he no longer wanted.


End file.
